


What you do to me

by Tails89



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hickeys, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29976639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tails89/pseuds/Tails89
Summary: "Wait." Derek's voice is little more than a low growl in Stiles’ ear and the human nods, twisting slowly until his back is pressed to the tree. The hand on his hip finds a new purchase and Stiles' heart pounds in his chest.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 206





	What you do to me

**Author's Note:**

> This came from the prompt: We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine.

Stiles stumbles on a root as Derek drags him through the dark preserve. He can't hear the hunters chasing them, but Derek keeps pulling him along, ducking under fallen trees and jumping logs. 

Suddenly, Derek drags Stiles sideways between two trees, one hand pressed to Stiles' mouth to hush the surprised squeak. 

His chest heaves from exertion. 

Mere feet away from their hiding spot, the soft tread of footsteps echoes through the empty building and Stiles bites back a grunt as Derek presses him closer against the bark.

It’s dark and so, so close.

Stiles can feel Derek's breath, like a hot mist on the back of his neck and he holds his own, not daring to move an inch.

There’s a distant shout and Derek is pressing down on Stiles, covering him with his body to make themselves as small as possible in their hiding spot.

And Stiles shouldn't be thinking about it, but God damn he can feel the way Derek’s pressing into him, dragging his attention down to the heat pressing into the back of his thigh.

The glare of torchlight fades as the hunters retreat and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging against the tree.

Derek drops his hand over Stiles' mouth, but otherwise doesn't move. The fingers of his other hand dig into the flesh of Stiles' hip, keeping him still.

"Wait." Derek's voice is little more than a low growl in Stiles’ ear and the human nods, twisting slowly until his back is pressed to the tree. The hand on his hip finds a new purchase and Stiles' heart pounds in his chest.

He flushes at the tilt of Derek's head, but the werewolf isn't looking at him-- he's staring out into the darkness, listening for any further threats.

This new position presents a new problem. They’re pressed chest to chest, the rough tree bark now digging into Stiles' back. He's hyper aware of every point of contact between them, from the hand still clutching his hip to the knee half-pressed between his legs.

They're almost eye to eye when Derek turns back to face him.

"They're gone." He considers Stiles a moment, nostrils flaring as he takes in Stiles scent. The human flushes again, no doubt in his mind that Derek's picking up on his predicament.

"Derek," he starts, floundering for an explanation.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Derek's eyes flash red and Stiles swallows, throat going dry as his heart rate skyrockets.

"I, uh--" He swallows again, gaze flicking to Derek's mouth. "Only good things, I hope." He wets his lips, sucking the bottom one between his teeth. 

Derek arches an eyebrow and Stiles mirrors the expression.

“You’re a menace,” Derek growls, lunging forward to capture Stiles’ mouth, his tongue darting out to taste. The hand not gripping his hip comes up to tangle in Stiles’ hair and drag the kiss deeper. Stiles grips Derek’s shirt, bunching the soft cotton between his fingers and nips at Derek’ bottom lip with his teeth.

The knee resting between his thighs is nudged higher and Stiles shifts his stance wider. 

“Fuck,” he groans, grinding down and getting an answering puff of air by his ear. 

Derek's hands roam his body, dragging up his shirt, fingertips tracing his waistband before fumbling with the button on Stiles’ shorts. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Stiles pushes back with a laugh. “I’m really not keen on getting splinters in my ass.” 

"Or those hunters could come back." Giving up on the button, Derek leans back with a sigh. "My place is closest." 

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

~

They make it back to the loft in record time. 

"This. Off." Stiles breaks the kiss to tug at Derek's shirt, pulling it up towards his head. Derek shrugs it off over his shoulders, tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

“Your turn.” Derek tugs Stiles’ shirt up over his head, dropping it at their feet. He bats Stiles’ hands out of the way, reaching for the button on his jeans to quickly unzip and step out of them. Stiles rushes to follow suit, letting his shorts pool on the floor beside his shirt. 

Standing in their underwear, Stiles reaches for Derek, letting the werewolf back him up until his calves hit the end of the bed and they both go down. 

Derek crawls up the bed, settling himself between Stiles' legs. His mouth trails down over Stiles’ jaw, the scratch of his stubble a sharp contrast to the hot, wet tongue on his skin.

"What do you want?" He punctuates the question with a lewd roll of his hips, grinding their cocks together through the thin material of their underwear.

"I want you to fuck me." Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist, hips rising searching for more of that sweet friction. "Now Der." He slips his hands down the back of Derek’s briefs to squeeze the meaty globes of his ass, drawing a grunt from the werewolf. 

Sitting up between Stiles’ legs, Derek slips his briefs off then leans forward to hook a finger in the waistband of Stiles' boxers to slowly tug them off. 

Dragging his hands up Derek's back, Stiles cups the back of the werewolf’s neck, pulling him back down in a searing kiss. 

He grinds up with his hips, rutting up against Derek and swallowing the breathy groan that punches out of the werewolf.

"Lube?" Stiles tilts his head back to give Derek full access to the long line of his throat and shudders at the gentle scrape of teeth against his skin. 

Reaching up, Derek pulls open the bedside drawer, retrieving a bottle of lube. 

"Roll over." He sits back on his heels giving Stiles space to scramble over onto his stomach and he lies there, shivering in anticipation before the first touch ghosts over his skin. 

He catches the soft _snck_ of the bottle opening, then lips press against his shoulder as the first gentle pressure of a slick finger presses at his hole. The first finger enters him in a silken slide that sets Stiles nerve endings on fire. 

He whimpers when Derek pulls out, teasing at his rim, and cants his hips back seeking more.

"Der, please."

Derek huffs and obliges with a second finger, crooking them to drag against Stiles prostate. 

"Fuck." Stiles balls his hands in the sheets, gasping at the stimulation and pressing back against the thick fingers spreading him open. Derek's other hand is warm against his lower back, fingers splayed out, holding Stiles still. "Need you." He pants. 

"You sure?"

Stiles snorts, squirming on the bed. "Yes I'm sure. Hurry up or I'll finish it without you." 

He can't see Derek's face, but he can hear the warm amusement when the werewolf replies, "Go on then."

Stiles scowls over his shoulder. "You're not funny."

Withdrawing his fingers, Derek manhandles Stiles onto his back, kneeling between the human's legs. "I'm hilarious." He retrieves the bottle of lube and uncaps it slicking himself up. 

"You keep telling yourself that, Sour-" His next words are lost in the moan as Derek lines himself up and eases in. 

"You were saying?" Derek smirks down at Stiles as he bottoms out.

"No more talking," Stiles whines. He pulls Derek down on top of him, raising his hips to meet Derek's thrusts. Each drag of Derek's cock across his prostate sends lighting bolts of pleasure sparking through him.

Derek's reaches for Stiles’ hands, lacing their fingers together and raising Stiles arms up above his head. His mouth presses hot and wet against Stiles’ neck, sucking on his skin until it blooms red.

Gut tightening, Stiles clenches down on Derek’s cock as he paints their stomachs with his cum. Derek’s thrusts grow erratic as he seeks his own release, cumming with a muttered “ _fuck_ ” against Stiles’s skin.

They lay there, panting on sweat-soaked sheets until Derek shifts away, pulling out Stiles with a groan. He stands, disappearing into the bathroom and returning a few minutes later with a damp cloth. Derek wipes off his stomach before sitting on the bed beside Stiles.

“Here.” 

Stiles shivers at the drag of cloth against his oversensitive skin. He rolls over, taking the washcloth and tossing it onto the floor with their discarded clothing.

Derek sprawls out beside him, head pillowed on his hands. Stiles props himself up on his elbow, leaning over to plant a kiss on Derek’s lips.

“So, same time next week?” he teases, before rolling to the edge of the bed. He squawks in surprise when Derek snags him around the waist, dragging him back onto the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Derek asks, wrapping his arms around Stiles and dragging him back down.

“Home. I’m tired.” Stiles flops back against Derek. “ _Somebody_ spooked a bunch of hunters and made me run for my life through the preserve.”

“You enjoyed it.” Derek reaches for the comforter thrown across the end of the bed, pulling it over them both to ward off the chill in the air. 

“Absolutely.” Stiles shifts so that he’s facing Derek. “Ten out of ten. Would get almost murdered again.”

“It was better than that double date we went on with--”

“Nope.” Stiles cuts Derek off. “I do _not_ want to be reminded of that disaster.”

“But--”

“Shhhh.” Stiles holds his hand over Derek’s mouth. “No more traumatic memories from our past. It’s time to sleep now.” He drops his head onto Derek’s chest and let’s his hand fall. 

“You’re so weird.” With one hand Derek, laces their fingers together while tracing the pattern of moles down Stiles’ arm with the other.

“You like my weird.”

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> So a certain group of people convinced me to write smut... so here it is... I've never written anything like this before. If you enjoy it, please leave a comment.
> 
> Prompt from [here](https://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/128638682051/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://tails89.tumblr.com/)


End file.
